“On Duty” by Carol Commons-Brosowske

Cledean Jones and I are both the best of friends and co-workers. She was always the first one in the office, but one day, she wasn’t there when I arrived. Naturally, I began to worry when I didn’t hear from her. I called her several times, leaving several messages, all of which went unanswered. It was three hours before I finally received word from Cledean. That’s when I learned about her harrowing experience.

Just as Cledean was leaving for work, she noticed her patio door was open. Neither she nor her husband ever used that door—it was always locked. She panicked and immedi­ately phoned her husband. He assured her he had not used the door and to get out of the house and call 911.

Once outside, Cledean called 911 and told the dispatch operator she believed there was an intruder in the house. Within minutes, three police cars came barreling up the street. One parked in front and two screeched to a halt in the back-alley driveway. They moved Cledean to a safe area then headed inside the house with guns drawn.

“DON’T SHOOT MY CAT!” Cledean screamed to them several times as they were entering the home. “Oh, and by the way, she’s not exactly friendly!” she added as they were going inside, but she was not sure they heard her warning.

Cledean was more worried about her cat Missy than she was a possible burglar. Missy—a gorgeous cat with a jet-black and chocolate-striped shiny coat—had become Cledean’s baby when the couple had become empty nesters many years earlier.

Missy is the sweetest and most gentle cat to Cledean and her husband and they adored her. It was obvious that Missy only had eyes for her human parents. Other people or pets run for the hills when they see that cat coming. She can be vicious and will attack without motive, scratching, biting and hissing at anyone.

I’ve often tried to make friends with Missy, but she will not have any of it. I’ve always assumed it was because she smelled my dogs on me. Usually pets of any kind like me, but this one cannot be won over by my gentle intentions. Missy is known far and wide as “The Cat From Hell.” Her vet even calls her by that name, and he is a true cat lover. Missy has been his patient since she was five weeks old.

Cledean, standing out by the police car, was frantic, waiting for word about any intruder and her beautiful kitty. Finally, two police officers came running out of the house, screaming like little girls.

“WHOA! There’s a wild cat after us! No one can get past her. She is one hell of an attack cat, for sure,” the lead offi­cer—Sarge—told Cledean as he approached her.

“We’ve searched every inch of your home. There’s no one in there except a stray wild cat that probably wandered in through the open door. You’d better call animal control—this one is mean,” added Officer Bruce.

“She attacked all three of us,” Sarge said, pointing to his fellow officers. That’s when he realized only one officer was standing next to him.

“Hey, where’s Joe?” Sarge asked Office Bruce.

“I dunno, I thought he was behind me when that mali­cious cat was chasing us.”

Suddenly, Joe came charging out of the house, looking behind him every step of the way. He was as pale as a ghost.

“Whew! That was close,” Joe said to his fellow officers and Cledean. Trying hard to catch his breath, Joe added, “That is one mad cat in there.”

The officers looked at Cledean in bewilderment, as if they couldn’t believe the cat was a pet.

“Ah, no, ma’am. She’s not hurt and there were no in­truders found. I actually wish there had been instead of deal­ing with your wild-eyed, 30-pound black she-devil in there. No offense, ma’am,” Joe said.

“None taken,” replied Cledean, but she could hardly contain her laughter.

“Holy crap,” said Patrolman Bruce, wiping his brow. “She pounced, hissed and spat at all three of us. She then chased us out of the bedroom.”

A terrified Carol (left) and Cledean and Missy

These three burly and armed policemen were terrified of a big old pussycat. They had run out of the bedroom and through the house screaming as if they were all on fire. That’s when Cledean realized that they must have awakened the Satan-like cat from her morning nap. That was a big mistake, and she told them so.

“As long as you have her, ain’t no way any strangers are go­ing in there,” Officer Bruce said as he got into his patrol car.

The other two policemen walked together back to their cars in the alley, discussing the ordeal. Cledean overheard their conversation.

“Stop that scratching, Joe. You’re making yourself all red.”

“I can’t help it, Sarge. I’m allergic to cats.”

Before the officers left, they told Cledean that, without a doubt, there really was an attempted home invasion earlier that morning at Cledean’s house. They assumed the person got just inside the door before being confronted by Missy. The suspect was frightened away by the demon cat.

For Cledeans’ last birthday, I gave her a sign which is placed outside of her home: “Attack Cat On Duty.” Those words have never been truer. After all, it’s only fair to warn these would-be burglars of what lurks on the other side of the door. If they only knew, I’m sure they would try another house to conduct their shenanigans.

Missy is now 13 years old and continues to live a happy life. She is content, but always on guard duty, 24/7. No need for a Doberman or a Rottweiler when you have a kitty like Missy.

Carol Commons-Brosowske is a native Texan. She’s been married 40 years to her husband, Jim. She has three grown children and is excitedly expecting her first grandchild. Carol has been published in Not Your Mothers Books and Chicken Soup for the Soul and writes a weekly column for Frank Talk magazine.

Again, this story appears in “Not Your Mother’s Book…On Cats.” The book is filled with 62 cat-approved stories written by their humans. Purchase this book today from your favorite retailer, Amazon (http://amzn.to/1CdPXYt) or Barnes & Noble (http://bit.ly/1zFY1kd).

Reblogged this on reneehughesauthor and commented:
You caught me grinning, Carol. Great story-telling! I suspect I may have lived with one of Missy’s relation. One of my roommate’s cats scratched at me whenever he got a chance.

Great story about a very evil cat that was somehow named Missy. Ha! I took the photograph and I’m here to tell you even I was scared. I took numerous photos before I got one that was not a blur. And several times I nearly threw my camera to the ceiling. Great job, Carol Brosowske.